


Carnations in a Coffee Cup

by Rvlakia



Category: gen:LOCK (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Florists, I will update these tags as i go, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rvlakia/pseuds/Rvlakia
Summary: Valentina has been told more than once to decorate her café with flowers. It's the florist that sells her on the idea.





	1. Yellow Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AkiSutaHatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiSutaHatter/gifts).



> For Mochi - I get around to things eventually :)  
> This will probably be updated unregularly and with shorter chapters than my usual. Please point out any typos/mistakes. Also, again, romance is not my strong suit. My strong suit is spades.

The first thing that struck her was the wall of scents assaulting her nose the second she stepped into the store. Rose, jasmine, gardenia – it all blended together into a floral cacophony the likes of which Valentina had never experienced before. Despite that, she couldn’t say it was unpleasant.

The second thing that caught her attention was the gentle tinkle of a bell that rang as she opened the door and again when it shut behind her, announcing her presence. From the deep recesses of the store a voice called out, “I’ll be there in just a second!” in the harried tone of someone who wasn’t really prepared for a guest. Valentina busied herself by taking a good look around the room, the glass fronting allowing the sun to illuminate everything with a mellow afternoon glow. Fresh flowers lined the room, portioned out into buckets held in specially made racks that she could just about see over the top of. A wide ledge (perfect for sitting on with a pillow and a cup of something hot, in her opinion) ran underneath the window, decked out with pre-made bouquets lovingly displayed in plastic wraps and baskets that complemented the arrangements. Right by the door were several magazines that Valentina idly flicked through, leftovers judging by how worn the pages were. Little charms made of driftwood, string and repurposed glass hung from the dark wood rafters, all placed out of the pathways so no one would be hit in the head. Some were crafted with such care that they’d probably sell for a good price at one of those niche markets that came through every other month, whilst others looked like they would unravel at just the slightest gust of wind. She wondered who made them.

Valentina’s heels clicked on the concrete floor as she approached the register, leaning against it and flicking her hair over her shoulder. This place had come recommended with high praises and so far nothing was opposing that assessment. Still, if she didn’t get along with the salesperson then that was that. Speaking of which…

A figure emerged from the staff room, backing through the door with arms hefting a large box that was deposited beneath the counter. Valentina unabashedly appreciated the pronounced biceps hard at work, exposed by the hiked-up sleeves of the sunflower yellow jumpsuit the woman was wearing. A classic green apron completed the look, front pocket holding several pencils, secateurs and who knew what else. Not a bad start.

“Sorry about that. How may I help you?” The florist stood up straight, Valentina’s eyes tracking the movement leisurely, more satisfied by the second at the angles of her face, the sweep of her hair and the set of sharp, scrutinising eyes. Oh, they were going to get along _swimmingly_.

“I’m here to inquire about some flowers,” Valentina purred, laying into her accent because she knew full well how effective it was at attracting people.

“Well you’re certainly in the right place.” A beat passed. “If you could elaborate on what you need that would help.”

Valentina’s smile widened. “I run a café on the high street – it’s been suggested to me on more than one occasion that I should decorate the tables with flowers to improve the atmosphere. Sadly, I don’t know the first thing about flowers, though I’d be interested to learn more. Their name, for example.” She gestured toward the florist to make her meaning clear.

“Their name? Oh.” Her gaze darted away. “Yaz. Yasamin Madrani.”

“I see, the owner.” Valentina recalled the name ‘ _Madrani Blooms_ ’ filigreed above the window outside in such a way that the words became plants themselves. “I am in good hands then.”

Yaz hesitated for a moment longer before returning Valentina’s smirk. “You certainly are. Now, for an indoor seating area I recommend you use synthetic flowers so-”

“Actually, I’d prefer real ones. There’s a joy in the beauty of living things after all.”

“I do advise against that. You’d have to replace them with fresh flowers quite frequently and I’d hate to put such a monetary drain on an independent store.”

“You know us?”

“If you are the coffee shop that opened at the end of last year then yes, I have heard of you. Haven’t been there myself though.”

“Perhaps we should change that,” Valentina mused. “I am obviously a beginner when it comes to decorating with flowers so having a skilled eye decide what might work best would help greatly.”

The florist’s arms crossed, a gleam of suspicion in her eyes even though her mouth was still upturned. “How do you know I won’t just _decide_ the best thing will be my most expensive product?” she teased.

“I don’t, but I imagine you would have a good reason if that is the case.” Valentina fully leant on the counter, fixing eye contact up through long lashes. It was slight, but Yaz’s skin flushed darker, any other nervousness masked by the confidence with which she maintained her gaze. “Besides, you already admitted to not wanting to overcharge me.”

“Oh. So I did.” Yaz paused a moment before pulling a notepad off the register and one the pencils from her apron pencil that was clearly sharpened by a knife rather than the correct tool, scribbling the address of the café down with an intriguing lack of hesitance. Her handwriting was haphazard but still legible, and the little flick she gave the end of Valentina’s name was particularly satisfying for some reason. “When would be the best time for me to visit?”

Valentina – barely flustered by Yaz’s quirked eyebrow that meant she’d been caught admiring the lines of the florist’s hands – swiftly answered, “Any day you like. We close early on Sundays, but otherwise we’re open until seven.”

“Tuesday then,” she settled, jotting it down.

“Wonderful,” Valentina crooned, straightening up languidly. “I’ll be waiting for you.”


	2. Cherry Bloosoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was probably a terrible idea for me to type this up on my phone on a train but let it be known that I too can be Wild.

The Phoenix Lounge was in the busier part of town so Yaz was definitely causing an annoyance for pedestrians by just standing in front of it. She'd already walked past it twice before reaching this point but was still working herself up to actually going in. It wasn't so much nerves as it was a certain anticipation, something she was indulging in for a little while longer. When Yaz had said she'd heard of the place she was understating things - all of her friends had been there at least once, and many of them were regulars. One friend in particular had been singing its praises even more as of late.

And that was why she'd never visited the Lounge. There was so much build up for it, so many recommendations, but what if it didn't live up to her expectations? Yaz could never be disappointed if she never went, not to mention she was quite content to make her own drinks and have them in her own store. But now she had no choice. This was business. She'd accepted Valentina's proposal as a professional, nothing more.

Definitely no other reasons.

"Okay, let's do this," Yaz muttered, steeling herself with a deep breath before finally moving toward the entrance. Though the ground floor façade of the federalist building was converted into basically all window, the glare of the sun meant she had been unable to get a good view of the interior from the street so she still didn't know quite what to expect. Yaz pushed the heavy door inwards, noting the gentle slope up to it as well as the button for automatic opening on the left, nodding her head in satisfaction at its ideal placement. The warm sound of multiple conversations enveloped her as she stepped inside, industrial beams criss-crossing overhead to support a mezzanine level that she couldn't see from her current perspective but was obviously in use as several people were passing by one another on the staircase up to it. The walls were painted a surprisingly confortable shade of purple while the flooring was a dark wood that matched the tables and chairs, though there were many amethyst sofas and armchairs available too. The sunlight straeming through the windows was enough to illuminate the venue but there were also bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, just out of reach, supplemented by an artistic smattering of glowing honeycomb panels on the walls.

When Yaz had first been informed about The Phoenix Lounge she pictured a quaint little café with an older clientele base. Later, after listening to other friends describe it, she thought of a cyberpunk bar that happened to serve tea. After yet more people speaking about it the image became so confused she no longer knew if they really all went to the same place. Now she understood, could see how the Lounge blended together different aspects and styles into something individual and unique that welcomed everybody in. Most of all, she could practically feel Valentina in the design, down to the plainest pillow on the sofas.

"Can I get you something?"

A man's voice dragged Yaz's focus away from studying the place and over to the counter that was just to the right of the entrance. A barista stood behind the glass display section that was filled with cakes, his arms crossed over a purple staff apron. Now that he was sure he had her attention he continued, "Or are you going to just stand there all day?"

Yaz approached him, clearing the doorway like he wanted. "Sorry. I'm just here to make some notes." She pulled out a notepad from her back pocket and brandished it to confirm her explanation. The man - Kazu, his nametag announced - raised an eyebrow.

"A surprise inspection?" Was the finger now tapping against his arm an anxious tic or an irritated one? She couldn't tell.

"No. I'm from Madrani Blooms; Valentina asked me to supply flowers so I came to see that space, to know what I'm working with."  
Kazu tilted his head in acknowledgement. "I see. Wait here." He turned and set to work assembling a drink with practised efficiency, despite her not ordering anything. Only half his hair was tied back and Yaz was torn between letting him know part of his short ponytail was sticking out in completely the wrong direction and not wanting to annoy him again - if he even had been annoyed in the first place. His impassive expression was difficult to decipher, and his heavy accent didn't make it any easier. It wasn't one she recognised either, but he looked East Asian so that was at least something to go off of.

"Do you like almonds?" he asked over his shoulder as he put the finishing touches on the coffee.

"Yes?"

Kazu plated up a slice of something from the display case and set it on a tray, next to the steaming coffee. Yaz reached for her wallet but he nudged the tray toward her. "It's on the house. Go sit at the back." He pointed further into the room.

"Oh. Thank you." She placed her notebook on the tray before picking it all up, moving away from the counter hesitantly. She could feel Kazu still watching her as she proceeded to the innermost part of the room. A large section of the floor was raised so she took care not to spill anything when ascending the four steps up to it, selecting a small table that had her back right against the wall. From here she had a decent view of the mezzanine, with its sturdy latticework balustrade that was too high too high to fall over but just low enough to comfortably lean on, it seemed. In contrast, the fence around this raised seating area looked removable, and putting two and two together she concluded that she was actually sat on a stage of some kind. Interesting.

Yaz took eveything off of the tray, which she leant on the wall, opening her notebook and scribbling down all the things she'd noticed so far, including a rough sketch of the layout so she could remember how the natural light fell. Eventually she forced herself to put her pencil down and take a sip of the mystery coffee, the surface of which was patterned with a feather. The drink was rich and earthy, not too sweet and not too bitter, warming her core as she settled down into the armchair fully. Upon sampling the slice of almond cake it became clear they had been deliberately paired together, perfect complements to one another. If this was the standard she could see why everyone praised the café so much.

She relaxed, letting time pass whilst drinking in both coffee and atmosphere. Then the sound of a door opening turned Yaz's attention to a nearby staff exit through which her client appeared, carrying her apron in her arms. Their gazes met, and Valentina's eyes lit up.


End file.
